


kiss you for hours

by FakePlastikTrees



Category: Code Black (TV)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-30
Updated: 2016-11-30
Packaged: 2018-09-03 06:06:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,727
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8700370
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FakePlastikTrees/pseuds/FakePlastikTrees
Summary: Heather tries to help Leanne relax, while convincing herself she does not have a crush.





	

Heather Pinkney isn’t the type to have crushes. Crushes are for grade school. The blushing, the staring and hoping you don’t get caught doing it, it’s just gross and frankly, a waste of time, also weak. She doesn’t do weak. But this whole thing with Leanne…For one, they’ve already had sex, which is ultimately the point of having a crush in the first place. There’s no schoolgirl blushing—but there is some staring, which Heather will attribute, specifically now, to Leanne’s choice of work attire. Something tells her that the pencil skirt and heels have something to do with Jackie’s death and whatever administrative bullshit happens after something like that.

 

Still, it’s nice for everybody if it sends Daddy back to work in _that_.

 

The black ensemble is modest enough, business enough, still there’s plenty of cleavage to keep Heather looking and the skirt hugs her ass well enough to turn everyone else’s head as she goes, too.

 

Leanne looks serious, fed up really, and avoids greeting anyone while making a beeline for her office.

 

Heather taps her pen to the file she’s holding a few times and then puts the board down.

 

At Leanne’s office she knocks three times and then hears a muffled “come in”. She looks around to make sure Jesse isn’t anywhere he can see and then steps inside.

 

The blinds are drawn, the lights are off for the most part, save for a single desk light, and Leanne is sitting back comfortably, brow furrowed--not so comfortably, thick rimmed glasses perched casually on her nose, expression unreadable once her visitor comes into view.

 

“Yes, Doctor Pinkney. How can I help you?” Her tone tells Heather she’s spent the better part of her morning being grilled by people who have never set foot in the business end of a hospital.

 

“You okay? You look a little—scary.”

 

“I’m fine. Why?”

 

“Just wondering how it went. Like on scale of one to Joan Crawford addressing Pepsi in Mommie Dearest.”

 

Leanne seemed to consider her options for a moment. “Am I Joan Crawford in this scenario?”

 

“Yeah. With better eyebrows.”

 

“Oh, well, thank you very much.”

 

Heather does a little two finger solute that gets her a chuckle, which she takes as indication that her presence isn’t exactly unwanted.

 

“What’s on your mind, Heather?” Leanne asks, removing her glasses and then storing them in the top left drawer.

 

“Nothing really,” Heather replies, slowly advancing, “Just thought you could use a massage or something, you look stressed.”

 

Leanne’s eyebrow goes up as she asks, “A _massage_?”

 

“Or something.”

 

She watches Heather, her chair turning left, then right, fingers drumming casually against the armrests. “What did you have in mind, exactly?”

 

“I told you. A massage. Or something else having to do with my hands.” Heather holds her hands up, wiggles her fingers, and this gets her a tired laugh from Leanne, who then presses her fingers to her temple and begins to rub gently.

 

Heather clicks her tongue and then advances toward the desk, rounding it until she’s between it and Leanne, who looks baffled when Heather rolls her chair back about a foot and then sinks to the floor, sitting cross legged as she wordlessly takes one of Leanne’s feet, removes her shoe, then does the same to the other.

 

“What are you doing?” Leanne asks tiredly.

 

From below, Heather smiles as she begins to expertly kneed Leanne’s left heel.

 

“Oh my god,” she moans, her eyes shutting involuntarily at the much needed attention, “you’re really good at that.”

 

“I know,” Heather replies smugly, sliding her thumb upwards, searching for more little sounds of relief. Leanne’s toe nails are painted a deep, dark red and this makes her smile, she finds this deep, blood-red very sexy and for a second remembers she didn’t _really_ come in here to give the woman foot run. Yet here she is, sitting on the floor like a little minion. “You know, I thought if I ever found myself under your desk it would be for completely different reasons.”

 

“You’ve spent a lot of time thinking about being under my desk?”

 

Gently working the toes, Heather glances up at Leanne, is momentarily taken aback by the surprisingly seductive way she’s looking back at her, since a minute ago she seemed about ready for a nap, and shrugs. “You haven’t?”

 

“Once or twice.”

 

“Before or after the bar.”

 

Leanne rolls her eyes, “After.”

 

Heather gently rubs the ankle, works both hands up the calf, and then down with slightly more pressure. “What’s happened the one or two times you’ve thought about it?”

 

A soft grunt follows before Leanne replies, “Well, you’re usually where you’re sitting now, for starters.”

 

“Oh yeah?” Heather smiles, takes a chance and slides one hand higher, using her thumb to circle Leanne’s knee before she takes that hand and slowly glides it up her skirt, kneading her thigh gently, glancing up in time to see Leanne’s lips part to rake in a shaky breath while her hips edge forward just a tad. “Then what?” She asks, sliding her hands back down Leanne’s leg, giving her foot one subtle squeeze before picking up the other one, working through the other heel.

 

“Well, then there’s some touching.”

 

“Touching, huh?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

Heather slides her hand back up Leanne’s skirt. This time Leanne parts her legs a little, grips the armrests and bites her bottom lip when Heather lightly fingers her crotch through her underwear.

 

“Like that?”

 

“Yeah, kind of like that.”

 

Heather smiles, and just before she can get any further, the door opens and she ducks back under the desk while Leanne discreetly pulls her chair forward, careful not to bang Heather in the face with her knees.

 

“Hey, how’d it go?”

 

 _Jesse_.

 

Heather listens for footsteps, but he seems to be hovering at the door. She can see Leanne’s underwear from here; purple lacy stuff, nice.

 

“It uh—you know. It was a party as usual.”

 

“Yeah. Why’s the light off?”

 

“I’ve got a headache.”

 

“You alright? You look flushed.”

 

Leanne’s knees press harder together. Nerves. Heather can’t help but smirk.

 

“Fine, just talked out, you know?”

 

“Oh. Okay, well no one’s seen you, so hide out in here for as long as you need. I’ll cover you, Daddy.”

 

“Thanks, I’ll be right out.”

 

“’Kay. You didn’t see Doctor Pinkney on your way in, did you? Her patient’s back from CT.”

 

“Uh, no, no I didn’t.”

 

“Alright. See you out there.”

 

“Okay.”

 

As soon as the door closes, Leanne pushes her chair back and peers down at Heather. “Did you get a good look down there?”

 

“Yeah,” Heather answers, crawling out from under the desk, and then watching Leanne get up and smooth out her skirt. “Nice underwear.”

 

“Thanks.” She’s barefoot still, carrying a small stack of files from her desk to the small file cabinet near the door. She turns around there, hands on her hips as Heather comes slowly closer, “Just how time sensitive is this case of yours that’s just come out of CT?”

 

“Not very. Why?”

 

“Because you came in here claiming to want to help me relax and I don’t feel relaxed.”

 

“Oh,” Heather says, arms circling Leanne’s waist, pulling her closely, “that.”

 

“You’ve got five minutes?”

 

“I do.”

 

When they kiss, Heather finds herself being walked back until she hits a sharp edge. Her hands find Leanne’s ass, squeeze it before gripping her skirt to pull it up, the fabric bunches up to mid thigh before her hands are pulled off and placed on what appears to be the desk behind her. Leanne’s lips are hot on her neck, her hands quick to push her pants down until they’re in a pool of fabric on the floor, her underwear quickly following.

 

“This isn’t exactly what I had in mind when I crawled under your desk, I promise,” Heather says, sitting on the desk as per Leanne’s not so subtle guiding hand pushing on her chest until she’s flat on her back and she’s knocked a few of her things off the surface, “I was thinking about something more beneficial to you.”

 

“Shut up, Heather,” Leanne orders, hooking Heather’s leg over her shoulder.

 

“You shut up—oh my _god_.”

 

As Leanne laps leisurely at her, Heather wonders if she’s doing this with anyone else. Not that she cares, but— _god_ , she’s good with her mouth--she would hate to have to share it.

 

Heather gasps and grips the desk on either side when Leanne does this sucking thing that makes her hips jerk involuntarily.

 

She feels Leanne’s tongue inside her, then the sucking thing again and then something else altogether, over and over until she’s coming and Leanne doesn’t stop, just keeps going, until Heather is jelly on her desk, holding on tightly as she catches her breath, staring up at the ceiling, smiling, sated. By the time she finds the strength to sit up, Leanne is back in her shoes, pulling some file from the cabinet she was inspecting earlier.

 

After another good look at the woman’s ass, Heather hops off the desk and gets her pants back on. Maybe it’s the high of a really satisfying orgasm or maybe Leanne just looks really good in skirts, but Heather’s mouth opens before she can stop herself. “So listen, if you come over to my place tonight, I can make good on my offer.”

 

Leanne smiles at her, comes close and tilts Heather’s chin up to kiss her softly. “Yeah, you will.”

 

The kiss is too tender, and Leanne’s smile is too nice—it’s all making Heather’s stomach too warm, so she reminds herself it’s just sex—heather Pinkney does not fucking do crushes--but she can’t fight the smile that comes on and she’s pretty sure she’s blushing.

 

“Okay. I should go save lives.”

 

“Yeah, probably.”

 

“Cause I’m a rock star surgeon and people need me.”

 

“Right,” Leanne laughs.

 

“Hope you don’t’ get too bored down at center stage.” At the door, Heather turns one more time and asks, “That turn you on?”

 

“I’m all a quiver.”

 

“You will be tonight,” Heather says in a tone that’s serious enough to surprise Leanne right before she leaves her. Crush or not, she’s enjoying the crap out of all the faces of Leanne Rorish, and tonight she’s preparing to see a few more.


End file.
